


whatever gets you through the night

by endlessnighttimesky



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Collars, Dom!Gerard, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff, Handcuffs, M/M, Sex Toys, Sub!Frank, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessnighttimesky/pseuds/endlessnighttimesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I – I need – I need you to hold me down,” Frank says, feeling himself flush, red and hot on his chest and cheeks. “Tie me up, make me wait. Make it hurt.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	whatever gets you through the night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally inspired by [this](http://bodysnatchers-4-ever.tumblr.com/post/58177167445) picture.
> 
> In, um, February. I'm a slow writer. Also, this turned out way filthier than I intended it to. And _way_ sappier. I don't know how I managed it, really.
> 
> (And the last bit? Not planned. At all. But then [this](http://bodysnatchers-4-ever.tumblr.com/post/59093998048/wtf-mcr-frankierofightingsociety) happened, and really, can you blame me?)
> 
> Title from the comic _The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys_.

Australia is so fucking hot.

Gerard doesn’t know what it is – well, _the sun_ , obviously, but he never thought anything would be worse than Pro Rev. And Pro Rev was _hot_. (Fuckin’ flamethrowers.)

Australia, though – Australia is fucking _hell_. How half the audience isn’t falling over from sunstroke is beyond Gerard. How his _band_ isn’t doing it is beyond him too, because the stage is fucking burning and Gerard feels a little like he’s going to pass out.

He’s the only one who seems to feel that way, though, because Frank is still jumping around (like a fucking bunny, Gerard might add – like, what the fuck) and writhing on the floor, in a cardigan, and _gloves_ , ugh, Gerard feels sweaty just by looking at him. Mikey seems just as okay, calmly strumming away on his bass like he’s not half-Scottish and from Jersey. Ray’s hair looks a little flatter than usual, but that’s about it.

They’re halfway through the set when Gerard just can’t take it anymore, and unbuttons his shirt, much to the joy of the girls at the barrier. He doesn’t do it all the way down – he’s still half-Scottish, and from Jersey, and a natural basement-dweller, he’s not _crazy_. But it’s warm, so fucking warm, so the two or three top buttons have to go or he might just suffocate.

Frank notices it immediately, giving Gerard the once-over with a sly grin on his lips, before he’s off to annoy Mikey some more and steal another one Ray’s beers.

§ § §

Once they get backstage, Gerard is soaked, black fabric of his shirt tacky and damp, sticking to his skin. His hair is wet from when he upturned a water bottle over his head, although it was probably just as wet before, only with sweat.

“Fuck,” Gerard pants, grabbing the nearest water bottle and chugging half of it in one go, not really caring that some of it is dribbling down his chin. It’s cold, icy, and he’d pour it all over him if it wasn’t for how they’re supposed to go to the hotel now and how it’s probably considered rude to jump into a cab soaking wet.

“How’s it going, old man?” Frank sidles up next to him, grinning and throwing an arm around Gerard’s shoulders, placing a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek. The proximity makes Gerard feel like he’s burning up again, but it’s Frank, so he doesn’t really care. Frank isn’t really a stranger to a sweaty, panting Gerard, anyway.

“Fuck you,” Gerard says, but he’s smiling, like he always does when Frank teases him about his age, or kisses his cheek, or, y’know, _exists_. “Fuckin’ boytoy.”

“Hell yeah,” Frank says, giving Gerard another open-mouthed kiss, this time on his jaw, damp and wide. “I like the sound of that.”

“Stop being gross and get in the car,” Medhi says from behind them, shoving them towards the exit and the parking lot. “I’m not waiting for you to fuck in the showers.”

“That was one time!” Frank defends, laughing, but he does as Mehdi says, knowing there will be hell to pay otherwise.

§ § §

The cab ride is torture. Gerard might’ve cooled off, but now he’s got a lap full of Frank instead, all sweaty and warm and high on adrenaline, hands all over Gerard as if he just can’t wait until they get to the hotel.

“Stop defiling my brother,” Mikey says from the seat in front of them, having been wise enough to let Frank and Gerard have the backseat. He can still hear them, though.

“Stop listening to me defiling him,” Frank says, but it’s muffled, since he doesn’t bother detaching his mouth from Gerard’s neck long enough to speak clearly.

“Ugh,” Mikey says, but doesn’t bother with more than that, because it’s the same, after every show. It’s better now, even, because back in the beginning Frank didn’t have Gerard to cling on and lick and do God knows what else to, so instead he was all over the place, jumping on and off people and objects, climbing and running and bouncing until he passed out in his bunk, usually with his clothes still on. Now he’s got Gerard, at least, which means all Mikey and Ray have to do is plug in their headphones and turn the volume to max, or lock themselves in a hotel room until the following morning.

One night is usually enough.

§ § §

They don’t go in the same elevator on the way to their floor.

They easily could have – the thing is fucking huge, probably bigger than Frank’s first bedroom, but Mikey and Ray have eyes, alright? And they’d like to keep them.

Not even Mehdi goes with them – he likes his eyes the way they are too, thank you very much. He’d take a bullet for any of the guys, any day – it’s his job, after all – but he’ll stay away from their dicks if he can. Which basically means staying away from Frank altogether.

“Fuck, why did they have to put us on the top floor?” Frank whines, keeping an eye on the red digit above the elevator door while he rubs himself all over Gerard, sighing at how slowly it changes.

“King size beds,” Gerard mumbles, busy planting kisses all over Frank’s face and neck and running his hands up and down his back, chest, hips and thighs. “Walk-in showers.”

“I need a walk-in fucking hotel room,” Frank grumbles, tugging Gerard’s shirt out of the confines of his jeans so he can get his hands under it. “Straight from the stage and into bed. Need _that_.”

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees, voice a little breathy – he’s still warm, and Frank’s heated hands on his skin isn’t making anything better. “Fuck, Frankie.”

“Mmm.” Frank’s hands are roaming the waistband of Gerard’s jeans, fingers teasing the skin there, thumbs hooked in the belt loops.

The elevator dings, announcing the arrival to their floor. In record time – because they’ve done this before, so many times – they straighten up, as much as one can after two exhausting hours on stage in front of thousands of kids. Frank pulls away, but keeps his hand in Gerard’s, fingers intertwining.

There’s no one in the hallway, so he lets himself walk closer to Gerard than he would if there were, although even when they’re around people it’s probably pretty obvious that they’re a couple. They don’t hide their relationship, not really, but it’s something private, between just the two of them, and they’d like to keep it that way, tabloids be damned.

When they finally arrive at their room, Gerard pushes the keycard into the slot, much to Frank’s annoyance. It works on the first try, but it’s still too long for Frank, so once the door is finally open, he gets them inside before Gerard can even blink.

“Frankie,” Gerard pants as Frank pins him against the back of the door, hands absolutely everywhere. “I’m here, baby, it’s okay.”

“Need you,” Frank whimpers. “So much, Gee, need you so much, you don’t – “

“I do, and I know. C’mon, let’s get on the bed.”

“Bed, yeah.” Frank scrambles to get to the bed, pulling Gerard along with him, grasping at his hips and shoulders until he’s where Frank wants him – on top, pinning Frank down, straddled over his hips. It grounds Frank, the heavy weight of Gerard above him, the pressure of his fingers around Frank’s wrists, not yet bruising but definitely getting there.

“Tell me what you want,” Gerard orders, but his voice is still soft, because he’s already got Frank’s attention, clouded hazel eyes looking up at him, needy and begging.

“I – I need – I need you to hold me down,” Frank says, feeling himself flush, red and hot on his chest and cheeks. “Tie me up, make me wait. Make it hurt.”

It’s different every time, after every show. Sometimes Frank wants it slow, wants to be held and kissed and taken care of, like something delicate, fragile. Then, sometimes he needs it to be rough and dirty and without much prep, rolling around in the wet spot and having Gerard suck bruises onto his skin, dig his nails in, bite.

Or it’s like it is right now, when he wants it all – slow but rough, dirty but sweet, calming but painful. He wants to be dominated, contained, but he wants Gerard to take his time, tease him until he’s crying out, begging, _praying_ , for release.

“Okay, baby,” Gerard says, mouth pressed to Frank’s neck. “I’ll get some toys out of the bag, yeah? I’ll be right back. Get undressed, but don’t touch yourself.”

Unclenching his hands from where they’re grasping at Gerard’s shirt, Frank makes a tiny, whimpering noise of acquiescence and lets him go. Gerard takes his time walking over to where they’ve put their suitcases, already getting started on the teasing. Frank doesn’t protest, just obediently takes his clothes off and puts them in a somewhat neat pile on the floor before he lies down again, still and waiting.

He can’t help the shiver that runs through him when he hears the rattle of a chain. Though seemingly harmless, the cuffs provide a torture incomparable to that of any paddle or whip. Frank hates not being able to touch, hates not being able to dig his fingers into Gerard’s skin and smooth his palm over the marks, hates feeling helpless. That said, sometimes, just sometimes, that’s exactly what he needs.

Aside from the handcuffs – the padded leather ones with the fuzzy lining, so at least he won’t have to wear wristbands to cover any bruises during the next show – Gerard’s also brought a cock ring, a blindfold, and one of their vibrating plugs. Just the sight of it all makes Frank moan.

Pleased with Frank’s reaction, Gerard smiles as he drops the toys on the bed. He strokes Frank’s sides idly for a few seconds before ordering him to turn over, ass up and chest to the bed.

“Wanna see that pretty little ass of yours open up around the plug,” he says, and it’s all Frank can do not to come, right then and there. Probably a good thing Gerard brought the cock ring, after all.

“You comfortable?” Gerard asks a few minutes later, when he’s stuffed pillows in all the necessary places. There’s pain and then there’s pain, and what they spend their nights doing can’t affect their performance, can’t affect Frank’s playing.

“M’good,” Frank mumbles, because the bed is soft and the pillows even more so, and if he’s sore tomorrow it definitely won’t be because of how he’s positioned.

“Okay,” Gerard says, running his hand down the slope of Frank’s back, brushing his fingers over the bruises. A lot of them are from the stage, microphone stands and the harsh edges of amps, sometimes even Frank’s own pedals. Hidden among them, though, are fingerprints, ten little marks wrapping around his hips, and love bites, dark smudges of purple littering his shoulders, a few of them faded, a brownish yellow barely visible against the tan of Frank’s skin.

“So beautiful, Frankie,” Gerard murmurs, hand dipping down to run through Frank’s hair, nails scratching at his scalp. Beneath him, Frank nearly purrs, melting into the bed. “So good for me, baby.”

“For you,” Frank mumbles, words just barely escaping his lips, already under.

“Gonna cuff you now,” Gerard says, grabbing the handcuffs from where he left them on the bed. “If I let you stay like this, will you keep still? Or do I need to cuff you to the headboard?”

“I’ll stay,” Frank says. With his arms under him like this, he could easily disobey, could reach out and touch himself. But being cuffed to the headboard will leave a crick in his shoulder that won’t go away for days, and while that situation usually lends itself to a lot of impromptu massage sessions, it’s not what he wants right now. “Promise.”

“Yeah?” Reaching in under Frank, Gerard wraps the cuffs around his wrists and buckles them, not too tight, but enough for Frank to know he’s not getting anywhere. Then, when he draws his hands back, Gerard lets one of them brush over Frank’s cock, and he watches with fascination as Frank tenses, fingers twitching on the sheets.

“Even now?” Gerard asks.

“Promise,” Frank says again, but his voice is a little more strained this time, tighter.

Gerard hums and presses a kiss to the small of Frank’s back. “Good boy.”

Next he grabs the lube, pouring a small amount on his fingers, slicking them. When he touches a finger to Frank’s hole – not even pressing, just holding it there – Frank’s entire body quivers. He’s strung tight, and if everything works out as planned, he will be for a while.

“Please,” Frank begs, pushing back into the touch, almost subconsciously.

“Ah,” Gerard warns, landing a light slap to Frank’s ass. “Stay still, remember?”

Groaning, Frank clenches his eyes shut, breathes in deep. “I’m trying.”

“Try _harder_ ,” Gerard says, and then he’s pushing in, only with one finger, but it still takes every ounce of Frank’s self-control not to push back.

“Love watching you like this,” Gerard continues, crooking his finger just the slightest bit, deliberately missing Frank’s prostate by mere millimeters. “Love opening you up, love how tight you are, always so fucking tight for me, aren’t you, Frankie?”

Frank can only nod weakly into the pillow and mewl a little, barely aware of Gerard’s words but painfully turned on by them nonetheless. He’s using every last bit of concentration he has, desperately trying to keep himself from bearing down on Gerard’s fingers as a second joins the first, stretching him further, pressing deeper.

“You’re doing so good, Frankie,” Gerard praises, “so good.”

A third finger pushes in beside the other two, and Frank is dripping with the effort of holding himself still, sweat pooling at the small of his back, forehead damp against the pillow case.

When Gerard finally pulls back his fingers, Frank doesn’t know if the noise he makes is one of relief of complaint. Nevertheless, it’s easier to stay still when Gerard isn’t touching him, isn’t making him fall apart and shatter into a million pieces.

Behind him, a weight shifts on the bed, but Frank can’t find the energy required to open his eyes. At this point, he’ll let Gerard do whatever he wants, doesn’t have the strength in him to say no. Not that it really matters – he can never say no to Gerard, anyway.

“Lift your head for me, Frankie,” comes Gerard’s voice, suddenly much closer, hands stroking over Frank’s shoulders and hair, warm and calming. Figuring he doesn’t have to stay completely still anymore, Frank pushes into the touch a little, making a tiny, pleased noise before following Gerard’s order, tipping his head back.

The silk of the blindfold is chilly against his face, a soothing coolness against his flushed cheeks. Gerard ties it just tight enough so it won’t fall off, finishing with an elegant bow.

One day, he’s gonna buy a yard or two of red silk and tie Frank to the ceiling, wrap the rope tight around his arms and chest, maybe eve tie his ankles together. He’ll put a plug in him, the one that’s always guaranteed to hit Frank’s prostate, and then he’ll whip him until his skin is the same color as the silk.

Yeah. He’s definitely doing that.

“Can you see?” Gerard asks, tugging the blindfold a little lower, making sure there’s nowhere for Frank to peek.

“No,” Frank says, shaking his head the best he can.

“Good,” Gerard says, and then his hands are gone, the dip in the mattress behind Frank the only proof he’s even in the room. Gerard can be quiet when he wants to be, and right now the only thing Frank can hear is his breathing, and even that is faint, lost under the noise of his blood rushing in his ears.

It’s this perfected silence that has Frank’s entire body twitching when Gerard first touches the plug to his hole. He saw when Gerard brought it, watched him put it on the bed, but it feels like that was years ago, maybe a lifetime.

At first, Gerard just drags the tip of the plug along Frank’s crack, slicking him. It’s vibrating on the lowest setting, barely even making any noise, but sound or no sound, it still feels amazing when Gerard touches it to Frank’s dick, dragging it along the shaft and pressing it against the tip until Frank has to remind himself of how to breathe.

It’s almost a relief when Gerard drags the plug back and up again, but then he turns up the vibrations as he holds it to Frank’s hole, and Frank’s not so sure anymore. Gerard’s not even pushing in – just holding it there with steady pressure, and Frank wants to crawl out of his skin, wants to squirm and writhe and push back.

“Please,” he begs, “please, Gee, I need it, please, just – “

And then Gerard is pushing in, listening to Frank’s words as they trail off into moans and watching as he opens up around the plug, stretching wider as the plug gets gradually bigger.

When they reach the widest part of the plug, Gerard stops for a few seconds, letting Frank feel just how wide he’s being stretched, how much it burns. Lubing the plug, Gerard was careful not to use too much, Frank’s request still at the forefront of his mind. “Make it hurt.”

And from the sounds Frank’s making, it does hurt. Not in the bad way, though, not in the safeword way, but in the way that has tears soaking through the blindfold nevertheless. It’s just so much, and they’ve barely even started. How Frank is going to make it through this night, he has no fucking clue.

Finally letting go of the plug, Gerard watches as Frank’s hole slowly swallows it, tight muscles pulling it inside. Even the part just behind the flare is pretty wide on this plug, just fractions of an inch smaller than the diameter of one of their regular dildos. It’s stretching Frank to his limit and keeping him there, right on the edge. Gerard won’t let him fall over, though. Not yet.

Rolling the cock ring on isn’t exactly uncomfortable – it’s just this weird feeling of pressure being contained, making Frank want to rub himself all over the sheets, already desperate to come. He won’t, though, not for a while, because this was exactly what he asked for. It’s what he needs, even if it doesn’t feel like it now. Later, though – later’s gonna be good.

Not that now isn’t fucking amazing. Gerard is stroking him, long, slow pumps that together with the plug vibrating against his prostate is driving Frank completely and utterly mad. He’s making the filthiest noises, loud and slutty, moans and gasps interrupted by the occasional pled or curse, _fuck, Gerard, please_.

“Such a little whore for me, aren’t you, Frankie?” Gerard says, taking his hand off Frank’s cock only to bring it up to where the plug is breaching him, fingertips putting just the barest hint of pressure against the base. Frank feels it, though, deep inside him, the tip of the plug nudging against his prostate and making him cry out, shameless and begging.

“Please,” he says again, hands clenching into fists beneath him, knuckles white. “It hurts, Gee, _please_.”

“Yeah?” Gerard voice is low, rough, and he puts more pressure on the plug while his other hand wraps around Frank’s cock again, squeezing hard.

Crying out, Frank can’t help it, he pushes into the touch, toward into his hand and back against the plug, feeling it move inside him.

“You want me to fuck you?” Gerard asks and grips the base of the plug, starts pulling it out before pushing it back in again, eyes glued to the way Frank opens up as he pulls and contracts as he pushes, hole gaping and swallowing.

“ _Please_ ,” Frank gasps, chest heaving.

“Turn over,” Gerard orders, one hand on Frank’s side, guiding him onto his back. “Hands behind your head.”

Frank whines, knowing what’s coming, but obeys, curling his fingers around the lowest bar in the headboard. He can’t see it, but the rattle of metal is familiar – Gerard’s looping a longer chain around the short one between the cuffs and the bar, clipping the ends together and effectively restraining Frank.

There’s a brief touch between his legs – Gerard turning the vibration up to the highest setting, and then the weight on the mattress is gone, light flicking off and door closing.

The sound Frank makes borders on inhuman, a long, pained whine mixed with choked-off moans and gasps as he presses his ass into the bed, feet flat to the mattress as he angles his hips just right to let the plug push against his prostate. He’s full-out writhing now, back arching as he squirms and grinds his hips down, sweat pooling in the hollows of his collarbones.

He doesn’t know if Gerard is still in the room – sometimes he just pretends to leave, opening and closing the door without actually walking out. There’s no way for Frank to know, but it doesn’t bother him – he doesn’t have the brain capacity to be bothered when he’s like this, tied up and squirming, plug stretching him and cock curving hard and hot over his stomach, dripping from the head.

“Gee, please,” he mumbles, not even caring if Gerard is in the room or not. He never undressed, so he could easily just have walked out the door. Or maybe he’s still there, slumped in the chair by the dresser, legs splayed as he works himself through his jeans, watching as Frank tries his best at fucking himself with the plug.

“Need you, Gee,” Frank breathes, “need you, please…” He trails off, chanting Gerard’s name under his breath in time with the movements off his hips, tiny sounds escaping his lips every time he gets the angle right and manages to hit his spot with the tip of the plug, grinding down and staying still to keep it there, vibrating against the bundle of nerves until he can’t take it anymore, until it hurts.

A hushing noise comes from beside him, hands stroking over his chest and Frank arches into the touch immediately, body lifting off the bed until only his feet, shoulders and head are touching the mattress.

“Please, please, please,” he breathes, pushing back against Gerard’s roaming hands, crying out when one wraps around his cock. “Please, Gee, please…”

Settling between Frank’s splayed legs, Gerard leans over him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the top of his chest and collarbones, moving up over his throat and jaw until he reaches his lips, where he licks and bites until Frank is nothing but a molten mess of noise and sweat beneath him.

“Need you to fuck me,” he gasps between kisses, “now, Gerard, please.”

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes, sounding flustered, which Frank can’t help but be a little smug about. Only a little, though – he’s sort of occupied with other things at the moment.

One of Gerard’s hands drift down over his chest, tweaking a nipple and dipping into the hollow of Frank’s hipbone before it settles between Frank’s legs, fingers tight around the base of the plug. He pushes it deeper a few times – there’s nothing quite like watching Frank squirm beneath him, something addictive in the kind of power it gives him.

“Please,” Frank pleads again, and if he sounded desperate before, Gerard doesn’t know how to describe this. On the verge of crying, that’s what Frank sounds like.

“Okay,” Gerard says, grasping the plug and pulling it out carefully, leaning back just in time to watch Frank’s hole constrict around the emptiness.

By the headboard, chains are rattling as Frank tries and fails at keeping himself still. He’s desperate to touch, to dig his nails into Gerard’s skin and leave marks, long red lines and tiny crescents that will still be there in the morning.

“Wanna touch,” he breathes, “please, Gee, just let me touch you – “

“Yeah, okay, I’m just gonna – “ And there are hands moving around Frank’s wrists, unbuckling the cuffs and unhooking the chain, and suddenly he’s free, hands coming up to splay over Gerard’s hips, pulling and rubbing their crotches together. He’s still got the damn cock ring on, and the blindfold, but hands are lifting his head and pulling at the silk, and damn, Gerard has thought about it all, because only a few lamps are lit, casting a dim glow over the room and sparing Frank any temporary blindness.

Above him, Gerard is smiling, just a small tilt of his lips, almost amused, but Frank can only beam at him for a second or two before he’s pulling Gerard down on top of him, arching up and crashing their lips together.

“Been so good,” Gerard mumbles between kisses, “so good for me, Frankie, gonna fuck you know, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, please, Gee, I – “ Frank trails off, because Gerard is pushing in, slick cock opening Frank right up again and he doesn’t even want to think about when the fuck Gerard went and got lube. It’s not like it matters, anyway – Gerard is in him now, fucking him hard and steady with deep, firm thrusts that occasionally have the top of Frank’s head bumping into the headboard. Frank isn’t a size queen or anything, not really, but the fact that Gerard isn’t really modestly endowed certainly doesn’t hurt. (Well. Unless they’re doing that.)

Scratching his nails down Gerard’s back, Frank arches up into Gerard, searching for some friction against his cock, toeing the very fine like between pleasure and pain. He doesn’t mind stepping over – it’s what he asked for tonight, after all, but that doesn’t make him want to keep the ring on any longer. He can see that Gerard’s about to come, in the lines between him eyebrows and the slackness of his jaw, and when it happens, Frank wants to be right there with him, crying out into each other’s mouths.

In the end, that’s basically what happens, because Gerard’s hips start to stutter just as he gets his hand around Frank’s cock, grabbing the ring and rolling it off as carefully as possible, and after that, it doesn’t take much – just a few strokes and Frank is crying out, spilling over his stomach and Gerard’s hand just as Gerard starts to come inside him. He grinds his hips in a few times, nudging Frank’s prostate and making him squirm, before he pulls out and falls down beside him, arms instantly coming up to wrap around Frank, one firm on the small of Frank’s back while the other pets over his hair.

They just breathe together for a while, coming down from the high of their orgasms and sinking into the afterglow.

“You were so good,” Gerard praises quietly, kissing over Frank’s sweaty chest before pulling away a bit. “I’m gonna get some water, okay? And a towel. I’ll be right back.”

Frank is just half-aware of his words, but still clings a little as Gerard gets off the bed. In his daze, he pulls a pillow close instead, curling around it and inhaling the faint smell of Gerard that has already managed to settle.

“C’mon,” a voice tells him then, hands pulling at his arms and legs until he’s a vaguely-upright position. A water bottle finds its way into his hand and a set of fingers around his wrist guides it to his mouth, where he drinks eagerly, exhausted after the show and then this.

“Thanks,” he manages to mumble once the water bottle disappears, replaced by a towel on his stomach and then between his legs, before that finally disappears too and all that’s left is the slowly cooling body beside him.

“I love you, Frankie,” Gerard mumbles, pulling the covers up and over their shoulders. “So, so much. So glad I’ve got you, so glad you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Frank agrees through the haze. “Always yours.”

§ § §

“Do you want to wear it?”

Frank startles and looks up, grip tightening around the item in his hands. He didn’t notice Gerard walking out of the bathroom, but now he’s there, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair and onto his shoulders.

Frank tries not to look too guilty, but Gerard’s steady gaze makes it hard.

“Can I?”

He knows he isn’t usually the one to decide these things. He knows, that in the end, it’s not up to him, but if their relationship has any kind of policy, it’s that you can always ask. And after last night, he just can’t help it, can’t help wanting a reminder, something to carry with him as they go through their day. Frank doesn’t know how many, exactly, but he knows there are several interviews scheduled for today, which means little – if any – touching, and anything beyond that is just a mere fantasy. Still, he needs some reassurance, some comfort, because last night was intense and he can feel the remnants of it lingering in his body, bones and muscles sore and mind still a little hazy, movements slow and eyelids drooping.

“Do you want to?” Gerard asks again.

Knowing Gerard won’t repeat the question a third time, Frank swallows the doubt and guilt and shame he can feel building at the back of his throat. “I – yeah. Yes. I want to.”

Nodding, Gerard reaches down to grab the collar from Frank’s hands. “Stand up and turn around,” he instructs.

Frank pushes himself off the bed and turns his back to Gerard, lifting his chin as Gerard brings the collar down, then bowing his head to make the buckling easier.

The collar is one of the several they own, the most casual of them all. It’s basically just a strip of leather with a buckle, without any rings or studs or locks. It was bought just for moments like these, when Frank wants the comfort of a collar but can’t wear anything too ostentatious, usually because they’ll be in public and/or in front of a camera. It’s still not the most subtle thing in the world, but when have either of them been able to call themselves subtle, anyway.

Gerard buckles the collar just this side of too tight, making Frank acutely aware of its presence whenever he takes a breath, but there’s still enough room for him to wriggle a finger or two under it.

“You don’t ever have to be ashamed of wanting to wear this, Frankie,” Gerard whispers, fingers splayed over Frank’s shoulder as he brushes his thumb over the tiny inscription in the leather. _Property of G.W._

Frank doesn’t protest, because there’s no denying what he felt back there. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Leaning in, Gerard presses a kiss to the nape of Frank’s neck. “I know it’s hard for you sometimes, to open up and let others take care of you, to let _yourself_ be taken care of, but I’m so proud of you for asking, and even happier that you _wanted_ to.”

Frank twists in Gerard’s embrace, burying his face in Gerard’s neck. “You’re always so good to me.”

Gerard smiles into Frank’s hair. “As if you haven’t been there since day one. Putting up with my shit, the pills and the drinks and the coke, Osaka, Paramour, The Black Parade, Conventional Weapons... And fuck it, you’re still here, aren’t you? We’re still here – we gotta be doing something right.”

Frank laughs into the soft skin of Gerard’s neck. “I guess. I don’t know, I just – “ He looks up at Gerard, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I love you. That’s really all I know.”

Even after all these years, and everything he just said, Gerard still has to bury his flaming cheeks in Frank’s hair. “You’re such a fucking sap.”

Frank jabs him in the ribs with and elbow. “You’re supposed to say it back, asshole.”

Gerard grins as he lifts his head to look at Frank. He leans in, and the kiss is soft, not much more than a chaste peck. It gets the message across, though.

“I love you too.”


End file.
